Confrontations
by blodreina
Summary: "I did it for my son! And for you! And for France! Sweep away the usurper! Show Elizabeth that her agents will be found and murdered." [set during 'Burn']


**Confrontations**

"You are a heartless woman!" Mary cried as soon as she burst through Catherine's door, causing the other woman to look up, clearly startled. "Abducting your son's child. Putting him through hell believing that he was dead!"

"I-"

"Don't bother lying, Catherine. We have proof. Narcisse had your men followed. _Why_ would you do this _?_ Defy your son - your _king_! When you knew that Conde's fate was decided."

Catherine settled back in her chair then, looking into the mirror, and Mary gritted her teeth, waiting for an answer. Francis had wanted to be diplomatic, to negotiate with Navarre for Conde's release, and Catherine had lied to him for - what? Why?

"Francis's plan was faulty," she said coolly. "Diplomacy takes weeks, months. What if Conde and Antoine stalled? Never signing away their claim while another coup was mounted?" She rose to her feet, moving away from her vanity and toward her desk.

Mary stared at her, her heart suddenly sinking as realization hit. She understood the reasoning, but the utter lack of regret in Catherine's voice hit her like a slap in the face. She had abducted her son's child, along with Mary's friend. She had caused her son emotional trauma. And...

"You feel no remorse, do you?" she breathed, turning toward her again.

Catherine chuckled, sinking into her desk chair and looking back at Mary as she folded her hands, looking at her steadily. "The moment that Conde became your lover, he needed to die. Even he understood that."

Mary crossed the room toward her. "'He understood it when you plotted against him," she said, her small hands clenching into fists. "Knowing he was a target is what drove him to Elizabeth!"

"It was a choice," the queen mother said evenly, "and he should have been executed for it. You do realize that we could all be dead - my children, slaughtered. All because you couldn't stand being lonely in your role as queen, as wife - that's the job, Mary! Get used to it." Her words became more heated as she spoke, driving a wedge further between the two of them. Once more, she had risen and was striding toward Mary, her face hard, but as if realizing what she was doing, she turned and paced away once more. She was moving like a cornered animal, pacing.

"I have made wrongs, but it doesn't change the wrongs you have done," Mary insisted, following her. "The grief that you have caused your son - your son, Catherine!"

When Catherine spoke again, she began to scream at her - truly screaming. "I did it _for my son_!" she shouted, her face a mask of rage - of what Mary thought was insanity. "And for _you_ , and for _France_! Sweep away the usurper! Show Elizabeth that her agents will be found, and murdered!" She slammed her fists on the desk for emphasis, whirling on Mary. "I did this for the good of your realm - here, and in Scotland!" She moved toward her again. "I have stood by you, Mary. I have helped you navigate through the terrors of your position. When you were raped, I -"

Her hands were on Mary's arms then and the younger woman shook her off harshly, slapping her hands away. "Stop, I warn you," she said through clenched teeth. This whole elaborate plot just because Francis had wanted to try his hand at diplomacy, to refrain from killing Conde, to protect his throne.

"Francis does not need to know about this." Catherine drew a deep breath. "It will destroy him."

"More secrets?" Mary turned away. "Is that what we really need?" She shook her head, mind spinning. "I don't understand how you could justify it - in your heart, in your soul! These terrible shortcuts..."

"Ruling requires that your hands be drenched in blood! You, who have led so many to their destruction, know it. And Francis, who killed his own father, knows it. You are no better than me, either one of you - and I am sick to death of you pretending otherwise!" she snarled back at Mary.

"The difference between us is this." Mary's nails dug into her palms. "For us, bloodshed is a gruesome last resort, but for you it is as easy as drawing your next breath."

 _I want to be a different kind of queen._

She would be. They would be different rulers than Catherine and Henry had been. Diplomacy before bloodshed. The only problem was that in this situation, Catherine had snatched that option away, and where was Louis now?


End file.
